


Heckle

by MelinaLove



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Accidental wetting, Discipline, Implied Slash, M/M, Omorashi, Shyness, Smile (Band) Era, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelinaLove/pseuds/MelinaLove
Summary: Freddie heckles Smile and gets into... trouble.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	Heckle

**Author's Note:**

> Serving you more of that Freddie Mercury omorashiiii, leave requests in comments 😇

Truth be told, Brian hasn’t paid much attention to Roger’s little friend, Freddie, except for feeling a bit sorry for him. He’s dead shy, can hardly look at anyone, stammers when he answers you, even has a bit of a lisp. He’d have been eaten alive at Brian’s school... he’s pretty, but it wouldn’t have helped, if anything it would have made things worse.

Those big, shy dark eyes glancing up through untidy hair, and the way he’s always trying to cling to Roger if he can get away with it... 

He must be a poof. He looks like one, he acts like one. Brian isn’t a fool, he knows you can go to art college and be normal... after all, Tim met Freddie first of anyone. But Freddie screams “queer”. 

Brian’s tolerant, he’s not an unkind person, and he’d never be nasty to someone like Freddie. At school he wasn’t one to call names or take the lunch money off little boys, or shove them around. 

If anything, he just feels sorry for him. 

Roger says Freddie wants to be in a band too, poor scrap, but some hope of that, Brian thinks, who’d ever let him up on stage? He looks like he’d burst into tears. Maybe even wee in his trousers with pure fright. 

That’s another thing, Roger even has to go with him to the toilet, which Brian thought was some kind of stupid prank to begin with, when Freddie started hanging around them a bit. It’s not every time, but it’s often... Roger zips off to the loo, and he collects Freddie and takes him along, like he’s actually a four year old. Brian would start having doubts about what they’re up to, except it’s Roger, and he knows Roger is in bed with girls and only girls, as often as possible... and that means very often. Very.

Freddie starts coming to their shows. Shy and tiny and dark, at first he’s an unobtrusive little presence, tucked away out of sight at the back.

But he gets louder, and he starts telling them afterwards what he thinks...

And then one night he heckles them. 

He heckles Tim, specifically, the person everyone knows he’d like to replace, and Brian is furious, absolutely furious... haven’t they been welcoming? Haven’t they accepted his shyness and clinginess and how needy he is around Roger? Haven’t they listened to criticism? But this...

“Out!” he bellows from the stage. “Freddie! Out, now.” 

It’s some satisfaction to see Freddie’s confidence drain away, to see him scuttle out looking half the size. Is that it? Brian thinks. Is he gone? No more stammering little biggest-fan-Freddie clinging onto Roger, making eyes at men near the bar till they buy him a drink... 

He’s not sure what he wants. 

For Freddie to go, or to stay. 

In the end, he’s by the dressing room, waiting for them, looking timidly at the floor. Tim charges ahead and shoves him, hard. 

“What the fuck?” he hisses. “You stupid little...” 

“Tim, you’ll hurt him!” Roger’s intervening already, but Freddie, cringing but not really trying to get away, whispers something. 

“What?” Roger says, turning around and gripping his arms gently. 

“I d-deserve it.. it’s my fault... S-Sorry...” He isn’t crying, not yet, but he sounds near tears. 

“Get in there,” Brian snaps. “Get changed, Roger, Tim - and you-” he grabs Freddie, pulls him roughly away from Roger. “You’re coming with me for a talk.” 

“Roger?” Freddie gasps, “I - Roger?” 

“It’s only Brian,” Roger says reassuringly, “He won’t hurt you. It’s all right.” 

So Freddie obeys. He lets Brian lead him into the empty, cold dressing room at the back. 

Brian turns on the light and sits down, but when Freddie moves to follow, Brian holds up his hand to stop him. Freddie can stay standing. 

“We welcomed you,” he says seriously. “And you acted like a silly little boy.” 

He can see in the harsh light that Freddie’s eyes are wet. 

“Don’t cry now,” he warns. “It won’t change your punishment.” 

He pulls Freddie forward and stands him between his own legs. 

“I’m going to smack your bum for you,” he says, voice calm now. “And maybe that will teach you some manners...” 

He’s surprised that Freddie doesn’t complain or object at all. It’s certainly not normal, for an adult to do this to another adult - and for an awful sinking moment he wonders, is Freddie grown up? But he’s at Ealing, he must be. He goes drinking with them. For all that he looks so little and even a bit frail, he can’t be a child. 

Still. Brian would’ve expected some protest, though he’s prepared to meet it, _the disrespect, the ingratitude, the arrogance_... 

Freddie stands there, mute and tiny, watching him from under his hair. God, he really is so small, he isn’t even wearing heeled shoes tonight. 

“Why did you heckle?” Brian says coldly. 

Freddie shakes his head, looking miserable. Is he too scared to answer? Or is it the stutter getting in the way? Well, no matter what the trouble... 

“Over my knee,” Brian says. “But keep your clothes on.” 

It would feel too weird, too dirty, to have Freddie take his trousers down and get smacked on his bare bum like a child at nursery. No, he can’t - they can’t. It has to be more... more like a schoolroom. Show Freddie that if he ever wants to hang around them again, he has to do a lot better than this. Be polite. Be nice. Not be a brat...

Freddie is obviously so shy he can barely manage to drape himself over Brian, even clothed, and Brian has to position him. Freddie’s hips are thin - too thin, the bones sharp under his hands as he guides Freddie onto his lap. 

God, he’s trembling - is this wrong? Is he being a bully? 

Brian hesitates. 

“I’m not going to really hurt you,” he says quietly. 

It feels incredibly weird, Freddie draped over him like this. He’s light and tiny, not heavy, but he’s still a whole other person resting on Brian’s lap - his small bottom poking up in the air. 

“You have to behave, if you want to be friends with us,” Brian goes on. “It’s not...it’s really rotten, doing that kind of thing. Tim doesn’t deserve that.” 

He hears Freddie take a shaky little breath and he feels like a shit; Freddie’s obviously getting close to crying, really crying. Best to get it over with. He won’t hit him too hard or anything, and it’s through clothes...

He doesn’t give a warning. 

Just lets his hand come down with a sharp crack on Freddie’s bum, and Freddie’s small body jolts on his lap with the force of it. There’s a little wet, gulping gasp and Brian feels worse. It’s not that he thought Freddie wouldn’t cry, but he isn’t prepared for it, not now, it’s much more upsetting than he thought. 

He smacks him again. Fuck, it isn’t even hard, but his hand stings, and Freddie is whimpering - he smacks again. Three smacks. 

Again. That makes four. Freddie’s arse is really small, there isn’t exactly much room to spread them out. For the fifth, he goes for the underside, the lower part of the buttocks. Smack. 

Oh fuck, this time the noise Freddie makes changes, and it’s more like a sob than a whimper... no, it is a sob, and he’s wriggling on Brian’s lap like he wants to get away. 

Brian really has made him cry. He can hear Freddie’s wet, congested breathing, and it’s awful, just awful, he didn’t think a few smacks would affect him like this...

“One more,” he says, hearing his own voice, hoarse and miserable, “And we’ll call it a day.” 

He’s raising his hand for the sixth smack, and there’s something weird, something up with Freddie. Something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know... 

The sixth slap is down, done, connected, stinging his hand already as his brain clicks into gear and he realises... but no, no way, it can’t be that... only it is. 

There’s a hot spreading wetness on his leg, down the side of his thigh now, Jesus, and Freddie - poor Freddie’s properly in tears, no question about it. 

Freddie’s peeing on him. He’s crying, crying hard, his whole little body shaking against Brian’s legs, and the - the wetness just seems to be coming out of him, still spreading. 

A large warm patch. God, the chair must be wet too - it’s run right down now, under Brian’s leg too. It’s so weird. It’s disgusting. He doesn’t know what to do... should he push Freddie off? He can hardly move a muscle, he’s so shocked.

“What the hell?” Brian begins, and Freddie sobs out something, something that’s clearly meant to be words, but it’s completely unintelligible. 

He’s squirming off, trying to get up, to get away from Brian, hampered by what is clearly significant pain in his bottom. 

He slides onto his feet and staggers, clutching at the chair, at Brian’s sleeve, and it’s awful in a completely new way. Now they’ve broken apart Brian can see how soaked his own trouser leg is, where Freddie wet himself - it looks dreadful, terribly obvious what it is even though it clearly hasn’t come from Brian himself, since his crotch is dry. 

But Freddie’s isn’t. 

He looks so, so young, standing unsteadily on his feet, clutching desperately between his legs... and he’s still doing a wee, Brian realises, feeling sick with sympathy. 

Fuck. Oh fuck. The poor little thing is still going, wetting down his legs even now he’s off Brian. He’s not looking up, his eyes are fixed on his own little shoes, which are getting rather wet, but Brian can see his face is crumpled up with weeping, flushed pink and streaked with tears.

Poor kid. Oh god, poor Freddie - and it’s his, Brian’s, fault, isn’t it? He made him do this. He didn’t give him a choice. He was the angry one, he scared him - was it fear, perhaps, as much as the pain of the smacks, that caused this? 

“It’s... it’s okay, Freddie,” he says awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I- I really am sorry, I didn’t mean-“

There’s no good way to say it. Instead he says, “Do you want me to get Roger?” 

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he’s surprised when Freddie nods mutely, still trying to cover up his soaked groin with both hands. 

“I’ll go and find him,” Brian says quickly. “Please... please don’t cry, it’s not your fault. Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

He goes out almost in a rush, and closes the door firmly behind him. Roger should be in the dressing room, and it’s so near... as long as he hasn’t gone on already... but even as Brian walks away, he can hear the sounds from the room with the closed door. Muffled sobbing, then sound of somebody retching for a long horrible moment. 

And then the tears again, even more childish now that Brian isn’t in the room and there’s no one to save face for.


End file.
